deep and unpredictable grace

A few years back, I had a client that owned a bunch of nightclubs.  According to their CFO, the biggest night of the year for their clubs was the night before Thanksgiving.  Apparently, people just need a little break before the family and the turkey.

We went a different direction and headed to church.  The Thanksgiving Eve service is one of my favorite services of the year.  There are lots of reasons for this, I suppose:  the Sanctuary is always beautiful at night, the anticipation of the coming holiday, the chance to serve communion, and the time and space to be thankful in an intentional way.  Today met all my expectations, and even exceeded them, because for the first time our daughters were in the Sanctuary with us.  They sat on the front row, where the elders sit, and quietly drew and colored.  Rachel stood up with me for some of the hymns and read the words on the screens.  Hannah didn’t participate much, but stayed quiet and respectful for the full hour.

Afterwards, we hung out in the Sanctuary for a few minutes, just chatting with folks.  I love being part of the community of the church.

Our daughters were, by far, the youngest people in the Sanctuary.  There were no kids in child care, and the next youngest people were either in college or just out of college.  It makes me sad that no families with kids the same ages as our kids were there.  I’m not sad because I think the girls need someone to play with (they don’t; they were perfectly happy with each other).  Instead, I’m sad because I think there is tremendous blessing in spending that kind of time in worship, and I want other people to experience that blessing.  Also, it makes me wonder how out of place our family really is at our church.  How do we fit into a community where our contemporaries don’t worship with us?

Over the course of the last few months, my wife Beth and I have been having a discussion about how to introduce our daughters to communion.  The conversation started because of an announcement in the church newsletter about a “first communion” training class being given at the church.  Originally, we were going to send RRR to the class.  But then, hurricane Rita caused the class to be postponed, and we started thinking some more.  We decided that sending Rachel to the class was, in a sense, abandoning our responsibility to teach her about our faith.  It would reinforce the consumerist model of the church, which is far too prevalent, in which we send our kids off to church so that some professionals can teach them how to be religious.  We decided, instead, that we would talk to both of our kids about communion, mostly by reading scripture and telling stories about what communion means to each of us.  And then we’ll ask them if they are ready.  If they are, we’ll invite them to communion. 

Tonight, as we were standing around the communion table after the service, the girls wanted some of the bread which had been used by the pastor in the words of institution.  Since it was, otherwise, going straight into the trash can, we gave them some.  Then Beth had the idea of letting them try a communion wafer and some grape juice.  I was suddenly struck by the miraculous evidence of God at work:  We were being given a chance to introduce the girls to the physical elements of communion in a low-key way.  It was a chance for us to continue teaching them and getting them ready for communion. 

Tonight, I am very thankful for God’s deep, rich, unpredictable graces.

A few years back, I had a client that owned a bunch of nightclubs.  According to their CFO, the biggest night of the year for their clubs was the night before Thanksgiving.  Apparently, people just need a little break before the family and the turkey.

We went a different direction and headed to church.  The Thanksgiving Eve service is one of my favorite services of the year.  There are lots of reasons for this, I suppose:  the Sanctuary is always beautiful at night, the anticipation of the coming holiday, the chance to serve communion, and the time and space to be thankful in an intentional way.  Today met all my expectations, and even exceeded them, because for the first time our daughters were in the Sanctuary with us.  They sat on the front row, where the elders sit, and quietly drew and colored.  Rachel stood up with me for some of the hymns and read the words on the screens.  Hannah didn’t participate much, but stayed quiet and respectful for the full hour.

Afterwards, we hung out in the Sanctuary for a few minutes, just chatting with folks.  I love being part of the community of the church.

Our daughters were, by far, the youngest people in the Sanctuary.  There were no kids in child care, and the next youngest people were either in college or just out of college.  It makes me sad that no families with kids the same ages as our kids were there.  I’m not sad because I think the girls need someone to play with (they don’t; they were perfectly happy with each other).  Instead, I’m sad because I think there is tremendous blessing in spending that kind of time in worship, and I want other people to experience that blessing.  Also, it makes me wonder how out of place our family really is at our church.  How do we fit into a community where our contemporaries don’t worship with us?

Over the course of the last few months, my wife Beth and I have been having a discussion about how to introduce our daughters to communion.  The conversation started because of an announcement in the church newsletter about a “first communion” training class being given at the church.  Originally, we were going to send RRR to the class.  But then, hurricane Rita caused the class to be postponed, and we started thinking some more.  We decided that sending Rachel to the class was, in a sense, abandoning our responsibility to teach her about our faith.  It would reinforce the consumerist model of the church, which is far too prevalent, in which we send our kids off to church so that some professionals can teach them how to be religious.  We decided, instead, that we would talk to both of our kids about communion, mostly by reading scripture and telling stories about what communion means to each of us.  And then we’ll ask them if they are ready.  If they are, we’ll invite them to communion. 

Tonight, as we were standing around the communion table after the service, the girls wanted some of the bread which had been used by the pastor in the words of institution.  Since it was, otherwise, going straight into the trash can, we gave them some.  Then Beth had the idea of letting them try a communion wafer and some grape juice.  I was suddenly struck by the miraculous evidence of God at work:  We were being given a chance to introduce the girls to the physical elements of communion in a low-key way.  It was a chance for us to continue teaching them and getting them ready for communion. 

Tonight, I am very thankful for God’s deep, rich, unpredictable graces.

Comments

[Rodger Sellers]

Welcome back - been too long. And what a point to make: What would happen if we suddenly found parents doing what you and Beth are and realized there was no need for first communion classes?

Of course that wish is niave: You two are obviously WAY up front on the bell curve here, but still... as a model of spiritual formation it's as beautiful as it is Biblical.

Interesting story: I just yesterday had a conversation with a friend who's church is early into a pastoral transition: Last Sunday they celebrated communion and apparently had NO bread at all on the table for the words of institution -- just the commercial wafers. Seems on of the "communion ladies" had long taken offense at children eating the bread after worship -- something the former pastor intentionally did to visit with the kids on communion Sundays -- so she "took care" of it by not having any that would be "disrespected" after worship. (I'm having a bit of difficulty in seeing how throwing it in the trash was more respectful.)

I wonder what a group of children there thought when they came to the table after church and there wasn't any bread that was "supposed" to be there?

Would have absolutely LOVED to have sat in a first pew and watch as you two "did it" with Rachel and Hannah! Bet that was priceless.

Happy Thanksgiving.

RPS

[Kathy Boardman]

Hi, David!

Ah, you make this educator's heart sing! You have taken ownership of sharing your discipleship with your daughters. They will be so much the richer for it for not having to "get it from the church first" and then take a step backward (in my opinion) to see how it all fits in to the life of Family Robertson in particular.

You've nudged my thinking ahead toward Lent and Pretzel Day. . .

Warm thoughts to you as we wait,

Kathy Boardman
Happily ragtag at Portico